


Imagine Being Loved By Me

by ladybonehollows



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Fanfiction, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 09:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20927903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladybonehollows/pseuds/ladybonehollows
Summary: “Please tell me you're not so high in your ivory tower that you don't know what fanfiction is and that people write it about you."He can practically hear the sound of Henry rolling his eyes through the phone. “No, I know what it is, and I wish I could be surprised to learn that people have written it about me. None of that has ever inspired me to go looking for it.”Alex looks gleefully at the page in front of him. “Oh baby, I love how we can still surprise each other," he says. "I'm skipping to the good part, though.”





	Imagine Being Loved By Me

**Author's Note:**

> So about a week ago, I read the entirety of Red White & Royal Blue in two nights and it's all I've been able to think about since (I'm so so sorry to my WIPs).
> 
> Thanks to Gigi for reading this through for me, and to RAO bookclub for me reading the thing in the first place and then encouraging me to fic.
> 
> This is set ~handwaves~ sometime after they've been hooking up for a while, but before LA.

Henry answers on the second ring, his voice alert and awake in Alex’s ear. “Hi.”

“Have you ever read fanfiction about yourself?”

There’s an abrupt choked off sound from the other end of the line, and then a muffled shuffle as Henry adjusts either the phone or himself or both. “You’re not serious right now.”

Idly, Alex scrolls up and down the webpage that Nora had linked him to with a winky face and a kissing emoji. He’s lying on his stomach, his laptop open on his bed in front of him, one hand holding his phone to his ear. He had been a third of the way through before it had occurred to him to wonder if Henry had ever read anything like this about himself, and the thought of seeing him squirm had been enough for him to reach for his phone and tap on Henry’s name.

Henry’s response was basically exactly what he had expected. “Please tell me you're not so high in your ivory tower that you don't know what fanfiction is and that people write it about you."

He can practically hear the sound of Henry rolling his eyes through the phone. “No, I know what it is, and I wish I could be surprised to learn that people have written it about me. None of that has ever inspired me to go looking for it.”

Alex looks gleefully at the page in front of him. “Oh baby, I love how we can still surprise each other," he says. "I'm skipping to the good part, though.” He had highlighted the line in question, and finds it easily again on the page, clearing his throat and affecting a slightly deeper voice. “_Locking the door behind him with a click that echoed through the coat room, Henry grabbed Alex by the shoulders and span them around until he was pressing him back against the door. They could still hear the party raging through the door, music and voices and laughter, but nothing could drown out the music of Alex’s sigh when he pressed his whole body into him, feeling all of his hard edges through their clothes. _Do you think the way I sigh at the feeling of your body on mine sounds like music, Henry? Enquiring minds want to know.”

The line is quiet for long enough that Alex starts to worry that the call has dropped, but Henry speaks before he pulls the phone away to check his screen. “Alex. Shouldn’t we be worried that people are writing about us?”

He hadn’t even considered worrying about it when Nora had first sent him the link, and he didn’t start now, not even when Henry had enough concern in his voice for the two of them. “H,” he says, with the same gravity that Henry had just used for his name. “We’re two attractive, high profile men who spend time in each other’s company. Of course the fanfic exists. Now, do you want to hear about that time you dragged me bodily into a coat room during Bea’s wedding and had your dirty, dirty way with me, or not?”

“Well, if I have the choice —”

“_Unable to deny himself any longer,"_ Alex quickly reads aloud,_ "Henry bent his head and covered Alex’s mouth with his, kissing him with all of the longing that he’d held inside himself all night, and nothing in the world was more important than the hunger with which Alex kissed him back. Alex’s hands were urgent as they pushed his jacket off of his shoulders, and they felt like fire on his bare skin as he tugged his shirt free of his slacks and flattened them against his sides._

_“‘I saw you dancing with every girl here,’ Henry growled against Alex’s lips, his heart giving a painful squeeze at the memory. ‘Are you trying to drive me proper mad?’_” Alex’s only acknowledgement of Henry’s protest was to talk louder to drown him out. “_Henry could hear Alex’s pulse pick up under his mouth when he dropped his head to kiss his neck, his whole body arching into his. Pressing him back against the door, Henry felt him hard against his leg and couldn’t wait to get his hands on him, his mouth, anything. ‘Take off your clothes.’_

_“Alex moaned. ‘Yes, sir.’_

_“The party continued on through the door, his sister and her guests none the wiser to the ache he felt all through him, the ache that only Alex could ease.”_

Alex pauses, aware that Henry is quiet and has been for the past minute or so. He doesn’t like not knowing what he’s thinking when this is supposed to be, at the bare minimum, something fun, and Henry is having the audacity to sit there quietly while he reads. “Hang on,” he says, and ends the call.

Four seconds later, Henry answers the video call with an unimpressed look on his face. “Hello?” he says with an irritation that Alex doesn’t believe for a second. Alex props his phone up against the edge of his pillow, pulling himself and his laptop a little further down the bed so that he can see himself in the little window in the bottom corner and, more importantly, see Henry’s face as he reads him his porny bedtime story.

Alex charges on with the fic with barely a pause, trying not to smile when Henry rolls his eyes at him through the screen.

Fictional Henry tears off Fictional Alex’s clothes even though he’d just told Alex to do it, and he’s not sure if it’s on purpose or not but it’s really getting Fictional Henry riled up. Real Life Alex keeps glancing at Real Life Henry’s face, and it’s blatantly unfair that he’s just like, refusing to squirm. If anything, he looks like he’s getting annoyed, and Alex can't figure out why unless it's for some stuffy judgemental reason. Which obviously makes him keep going.

If he had a problem with the way Fictional Henry was sucking Fictional Alex off in a side room at his sister’s wedding, then he wasn’t going to be the one who broke first. “_Leaning back against the door, Henry sank his hand into Alex’s thick, dark hair, wrapping his other around his dick and angling it toward Alex’s mouth. It was all he’d been able to think about since he’d caught sight of him earlier that day. It was his favourite thing in the world — Alex Claremont-Diaz, on his knees for him.”_

The loud scoff that comes from his phone speaker is _something_, at least, and Alex grins. _So, we _are_ doing judgy._ He turns to Henry with raised eyebrows, his smile widening when he sees the carefully blank expression on his face. Not the complete wall that was his political face, but something much more fun to break through. “You think you could do better, Mr Pompous English Writer?”

Sighing, Henry pushes himself up against his headboard, rearranging the pillows behind his back before settling against them. Alex is always torn, watching Henry in bed. He likes to see his face half in his pillow, comfortable and relaxed and soft, but he also likes that when he sits up, the lamplight from his bedside table catches his face more clearly.

He appreciates the extra light in this moment, when it lets him see the exasperated quirk of his mouth. “The writing is fine, actually,” he says, and Alex wonders whether it’s inappropriate to comment on the fanfic to tell the writer that Prince Henry approves of their prose. “It’s just…” Henry pauses, and then throws his free hand up in the air. “It’s just so out of _character_.”

Barking out a laugh, Alex stares at him, delighted beyond words that Henry is so bothered by it for _this reason_. Or maybe not beyond words. “You are incredible,” he says, and means it. “All right, then, fine. What _would_ you do after dragging me into the coat room at your sister’s wedding?”

“To start with, there would most certainly be an attendant minding the guest’s belongings at a royal wedding —”

“Oh well then, I’m sorry that someone who’s very likely never been to a royal wedding made that _grievous_ mistake.”

Henry is quiet for a few seconds, and Alex’s teasing smile is starting to fade into uncertainty when he finally speaks. “My favourite thing in the world isn’t you on your knees,” Henry says, his voice quiet. Alex feels a twinge of relief when he smiles. “Although the sight of you like that is enough to absolutely end me just from the thought of it. No, my favourite thing in the world is the sound you make when _I_ put my mouth on _you_. Every time, without failure."

The thought that Henry's favourite thing isn't what Alex can do to him, but what he can do to Alex, sends a wild rush right through him. Surprised isn't the right word — he's very familiar with how much Henry enjoys getting him off. But it blows him away to hear it, not in the least because _Alex's _favourite thing is the tortured look on Henry's face when he's about to come, and the way it smooths out afterwards.

"I live for that sound," Henry says, dropping his voice a little and _yeah, okay, _that_ really does it for him too._ He's not looking at the camera, and Alex finds it cute — among other things; the hesitation in his words, the faint pink colour at the tip of his ears. "If I pulled you into a coat room at my sister's wedding, I'd know that I wouldn't have time to strip you bare, no matter how I long for the feeling of your smooth skin pressed against mine. I'd hold you against the door to feel your arms around me, kiss you until you were breathless and hard against me. I'd slot my thigh between your legs just to feel you, and turn my face into your neck, kissing you just the way you like, underneath your ear, just to hear that sound fall from your lips."

He's still looking past the camera, and all Alex can do is stare at his image on his phone, his laptop forgotten under his hand. Henry's voice remains quiet but gets more confident with every word, even as the blush starts to form on his cheekbones. "With all of the important guests on the other side of that door, I'd know that we'd have to be so terribly quiet, but that is the one sound I wouldn't be able to stop myself from taking from you." Pausing, Henry licks his lips like he can _taste_ it, and —

Alex wasn't ready for this.

Okay, maybe he was ready for something _like_ this, but he wasn't ready for _this _this_._

_What universe am I living in where Prince Fucking Henry is dictating his smutfic to me?_

He feels himself getting hard against the mattress, and rolls his hips down a little for the friction. He's wearing his underwear and an old t-shirt, and it's so easy to imagine Henry's body underneath him when he can see him right there, propped up against his pillow, the low lilt of his accent washing over him. Henry doesn't notice when he presses into the mattress again, but he does look back at the camera, and the nervous crease in his brow reminds him that Alex hasn't said anything for a few minutes.

Picking up the phone to bring it closer, he pushes up on his elbows and tilts the phone up to keep him in frame. Henry will be able to see more of his face. He grins at him, deliberately catching his lower lip between his teeth just so he can see Henry's eyes drop to it. "What would you do next?"

Smiling — oh god, his smile is fucking _bashful_, Alex is going to _die_ — Henry reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck, and it's the cutest thing he's seen in his life. Alex shifts against the bed again, it's not what he wants but it's better than nothing. What he wants is to reach through the screen and cover the corner of Henry's jaw with his mouth.

What he wants is for Henry to never stop saying dirty things in his ear.

"I… We’d have to be quick. I can't take the time to undress you, so your trousers hang around your hips when I undo your belt and pull you free, and… Alex, the taste of you," he says wistfully, and Alex can't take it anymore.

Closing his laptop with a snap, he pushes it back to the bottom of his bed and grabs his phone, turning so he's half upright and reclining against the pillows. Henry pauses, and a glance at his screen shows him looking back at him intently. "What are you doing?" he asks, sounding equal parts amused and irritated, which is, honestly, one of his favourite Henry moods.

“Getting comfortable,” he says, elbowing a pillow behind him into place.

"Getting… Jesus Christ," he mutters, his eyes widening and then squeezing shut. Like he's _surprised_, after the way he's just been talking. Henry shifts his phone to his other hand and then his lips part on a sharp inhale, and Alex is so glad that he video called him.

He’s pretty sure Henry is touching himself, and his own skin burns with it.

Somehow, he manages to pull his shirt over his head without dropping his phone, before he returns his gaze to the screen it’s to find Henry’s on him. “You’re gorgeous,” Henry sighs.

"And I'm really digging the way your voice sounds when you tell me what you want to do to me," Alex tells him, and watches his throat move in a swallow.

"How much are you digging it?"

Deliberately, he glances down at the erection tenting his underwear, and when he looks back at the camera, Henry's eyes are hot and knowing.

"Show me.”

"Hmm, yes _sir._” Henry’s surprised huff of laughter is quickly and gratifyingly cut short when Alex angles the camera down, giving him a good look at his torso before pointing it towards his underwear. With his other hand, he cups himself through the navy cotton and rubs his hand slowly over himself, letting his hips lift up a little into the touch.

Tucking his thumb into the waistband of his underwear, he lifts it just enough for the head of his hard cock to spring free against his stomach, before slowly pulling his underwear down until it's sitting around his thighs. He wraps his hand around his base and angles it up, and if he's showing off a little, it's only to hear Henry's sharp indrawn breath. Slowly, slowly, he strokes from the root to the tip and back down again, and grins at the camera when he tilts it back to his face. "See something you like?"

Henry hums his agreement, and Alex feels in through every inch of him. "Your dick might be my favourite dick I've ever seen.

"What do you mean 'might be'?" he says, affronted, but can't help but smile at Henry's breathless laugh. He tightens his grip a little but keeps his strokes long and slow, letting himself swim in this hazy horny bubble. "Yours is definitely my favourite dick."

Henry scoffs. "First out of two isn't a high score."

"Mmm, but it is." He lets his hand linger a few seconds over the head of his cock, teasing his thumb over the tip and wishing it were Henry's. "Are you touching yourself?"

The sound Henry makes gives him away before he answers. "Yes."

"Let me look at you," he says, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to see Henry worked up for him. Henry's eyes flash with desire as though to prove the point anyway, but that doesn't stop the way his breath catches when Henry pulls his phone back, turning it so Alex has the perfect view of his hand stroking sure and slow over his long, magnificent dick.

He wants to put his mouth on it. He tightens his grip on himself instead. "How the fuck is it fair that your dick is as perfect as the rest of you, oh my god," he groans, addicted to the way Henry's hand moves over himself. "I love stroking you slow like that, drawing it out so you feel every second of it, squeezing just a little around the tip — yes, like that," he gasps as his hand mimics Henry's. Henry lets out a quiet moan, and Alex watches hungrily as precum beads at his tip on his next stroke, only to be swept away by his fingers. "I want to taste you, wrap my lips around that beautiful wonderful cock and taste how good you're feeling on my tongue."

"Fuck," Henry murmurs, and the word sounds like poetry.

"Keep talking," Alex says with a hum, desperate to hear his voice.

He hears a muffled noise on the other end of the line, a half-swallowed sound followed by a quick breath. "What do you want?" he says, and Alex keeps the word _everything_ trapped behind his teeth. "Do you want to hear more about what I'd do to you in a coat room, or what I would do if I was right there with you now?"

Alex heart rate picks up either way. "What's the difference?"

"Well, if we were hiding at the wedding, I'd be sucking you down with the intention of getting you off quick, knowing that everyone's just down the hall."

Henry might have been nervous and blushing just a few minutes ago, but he was right into it now, dropping his voice low in a way that echoes through him. Alex fights to keep his strokes even as he pictures it. "Mmm, that's a good feeling."

"Yeah," Henry sighs in agreement, reaching down to fondle his balls, and Alex just — god, he really wants to put his mouth there. "But if I was there with you and we had all night, I'd... oh, _Alex_. I'd push you back down on your bed and kneel between your legs. I'd peel your clothes off you slowly, greeting every centimetre of skin with my lips as it's bared for me."

The only clothes that he's wearing is his underwear pushed down around his thighs, but that doesn't mean that he can't give a little bit of a show. Taking his hand off his dick, Alex wraps it lightly around his neck, and then teases it down his chest, following the path his hand makes with the camera. "Yes," Henry whispers, as Alex rolls his thumb over his nipple.

"Stroke yourself again," Alex tells him. "But slowly." Henry moans quietly, and Alex dances his fingers over his hip bone, wishing he could feel it echo on his skin. His cock is aching, but he wants Henry to know that every ounce of pleasure he finds is because of him. "What next? Henry, what next?"

"I'd — mmm, I'd remove everything so you're bare for me," he says, and Alex pulls his legs free of his underwear and tosses them sideways. "And then I'd push your —"

"Are you naked? Like, properly?"

"What — yes, I'm naked, Jesus Christ will you just —"

"Just making sure. Touch… just the head, do that thing with your fingers — _yes, baby, like that_."

Henry whimpers. Alex watches the screen hungrily, drinking in the sight of Henry's fingertips rubbing around the head, pressing at the spot where it joined the shaft. "I'd push your legs open and stretch out between them, kiss my way up the inside of your thighs with my lips. I’d make you wait for it, tease you along the crease of your thigh, up to your hip and back down to your balls, kissing you light and soft until you’re squirming under my touch, until you’re ready to murder me —”

_“I’m ready to murder you.”_

“Wrap your hand around yourself,” Henry tells him, his voice thick, “just like I’d wrap my lips around you, let you thrust in deep after making you wait so long.” Alex doesn’t have it in him to be self conscious about the stuttered moan that drags out from his chest as he thrusts up into his fist, and Henry’s curse is music to his ears. "There's that sound again… Alex, you're so eager for me, every single time, even like this. But especially when I swallow you down like I love."

Groaning, Alex squeezes his hand around his cockhead, stroking slowly down to the base and back up again. Henry's not wrong — he can never hold himself still with Henry's hands on him, and his _mouth_. The only thing he wants more than Henry's mouth on him is his mouth on his.

"Faster," he says, and Henry's hand picks up on his own cock, stroking himself faster and drawing a low moan from him. "Your face your face, show me your face."

The image on his screen tilts and then there's a shuffling sound as Henry fumbles his phone. A few seconds later his face appears on the screen, his flushed cheeks and blown eyes temporarily offset by a sheepish smile before he gives a quiet gasp and pulls his lower lip through his teeth. "Alex…" he breathes, and Alex wants to kiss him until their mouths are bruised with it, wants to swallow him whole.

"I think about this every day," he says. "The way you feel, the way you sound, the way you taste. All of the ways we can touch each other when we see each other next."

"I want to see you," Henry gasps, and Alex gets it… watching the way his brow furrows on his screen is one thing, but he wants to be there with him, every part of him on every part of Henry. Henry's tongue worries over the grooves his teeth have just left in his lip. "I want to — fuck, Alex, I — why the bloody hell do you have to live an ocean away?" His eyes sparkle, his breath hitches, and Alex's blood is on fire. "I want to feel the warmth of your body pressed flush against me. I want to feel your hands on me, how your fingers grip tight, feel the way your thighs tremble when you come. _Alex._"

And Alex is gone, he's so far gone and he's close too. How is this his life, where the flushed face on his phone screen belongs to the Prince of fucking Wales, where the broken moans that fall from his perfect lips are because of him. “I want you, I want you so badly right now, fuck,” he says, just to see Henry's brow crease. “How are you real, how are you fucking real? I want to watch you come, baby, I want to be there with you and kiss you until we can’t breathe and jerk you off until you’re a fucking mess for me.”

Henry lets out a choked out moan, his face screwing up and Alex realises that he’s right there, he’s about to come and it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. He strokes himself faster, chasing his own orgasm. “Look at you, oh my _god._” 

"Oh — _oh."_ Henry cries out, and Alex wishes he could see the way his cock is twitching and spilling in his hand but he wouldn't trade the image of blissful agony on his face for anything. Alex jerks up into his fist once, twice more, only semi-aware of the long, low moan falling from his lips, the way his body is shuddering before his world turns white, the building tension inside him snapping and sending a flood of heat through every inch of him.

When he comes back to himself, his hand is still on his cock, sticky with cum. He's dropped his other hand onto the bed, and he glances down to see Henry's face, and his tired lazy smile sends a rush through him that's different from the release he's just found. Henry must only be able to see his ceiling while Alex’s phone is flat on the bed but he's looking straight into the camera, and maybe he thinks Alex isn't looking at the screen because his eyes are soft soft soft.

Softer than when Alex catches these moments in person? No. Yes. Maybe.

Languidly, Alex picks up the phone and tilts it toward him, catching the moment when Henry's smile changes into something more defined but no less real. There's so many layers to him. The charming, stuffy version of himself he shows to the world; the way he smiles with Pez and Bea and June and Nora; the way he smiles at Alex. And this one… the way he smiles at Alex when he thinks he's not looking.

Or maybe it’s just the orgasm. It’s probably just the orgasm.

“Ugh, thanks for this mess all over me,” he jokes, lifting his hand off off his softening and sensitive dick, and feels himself step back onto familiar ground at Henry's huff of laughter.

Alex leaves his phone on the bed as he cleans up and finds his underwear, and by the time he settles on his side on the mattress, tugging his sheet up over him, Henry is sinking back against his own pillows. He drinks in the sight of Henry’s pink cheeks, his tousled hair, his tired eyes. _Fuck, why are you so beautiful?_ It’s just unfair, that he looks this good, is smart and funny and irritating and sounds so good when he orgasms.

His mind lingers over his face just before he came, pauses as he remembers something. Laughing, he turns his face into the pillow, keeping one eye on his screen. “Did you just quote Hamilton to me during phone sex?”

Henry grins at him, flushing again. “You noticed that, did you?” The corner of his mouth twists further until he’s smirking. “It worked though, didn't it?”

Humming his agreement, Alex’s eyes dart over the phone screen, trying to take in every aspect of his frustratingly attractive face. He reaches up, caught with the urge to card his fingers through Henry's hair, the same urge he’s felt for the last ten years. "Yeah,” he says, pulling his fingers back before they meet the screen and play havoc with their video call. “It worked. I liked your words better, though."

“Better than the fanfiction you were reading about us?”

Rolling his eyes, Alex stretches out his limbs and rolls onto his stomach, propping his head up on his forearm. “It wasn’t so bad,” he says with a shrug that he’s not sure Henry can see. “I like the reality better, though.”

“Me too,” Henry says, his smile softening. After a moment his eyebrows lift slightly, his eyes clearing. “Oh, I was going to message you earlier today. There’s a charity event in three weeks, and —”

“Fine, fine,” Alex says with a sigh. “If you want me there so badly I guess I can clear my schedule.”

Shaking his head, Henry did a terrible job of hiding his smile behind his hand. “Good. Goodnight, Alex.”

“Night, Your Horniness."

"You're the one who called —"

Alex sticks out his tongue so that it's the last thing Henry sees before he cuts off the call. He barely has time to reach over and turn off his bedside lamp before his phone is buzzing on the bed beside him. There’s only one word in the message.

** _Asshole._ **

Grinning, he types out a quick reply:

** _you love it_ **

He falls asleep with his phone in his hand and a smile on his face.


End file.
